Pax Um Biscum, Or Peace Be With You
by One Fine Wire
Summary: The wheel is come full circle. The sequel to 'Let It Be' and 'War Is Over'.


**Preliminary Author's Note:** This story is the sequel to my previous Christmas stories War Is Over and Let It Be. If you have not read those particular fics, you must do so in order to understand the events that take place in this one.

Additionally, it should be noted that those stories have been revised since their original publication dates.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the song "Pax Um Biscum (Peace Be With You)" written by Richard Starkey (AKA Ringo Starr), Mark Hudson and Scott Gordon. No copyright infringement is intended or inferred.

* * *

**Pax Um Biscum, Or Peace Be With You**

_Pax um biscum  
Pax um biscum, Merry Christmas_

_Pax um biscum_

_Peace be with you  
Peace be with you  
Peace be with you_

~Ringo Starr, "Pax Um Biscum (Peace Be With You)"~

* * *

Helga G. Pataki had the tendency to disappear from people's lives without a trace.

She didn't like wearing out her welcome and also feared growing close to those she loved. The woman feared that they would cut her out of their lives without an explanation, leaving her alone in the end. To her, it appeared that just when she was _finally _making a breakthrough and opening her heart again, that the same people she trusted her heart to stomped all over it, spat upon it, and mocked it all while welcoming the rest of the world to join in on breaking it.

Since celebrating her fiftieth birthday in March, Helga reached the astute realization that while the end wasn't coming anytime soon, she could now see it from where she stood in front of 4040 Vine Street.

Life was short and she had officially been miserable for a good portion of it.

There were still good moments, such as Roger and Ava Manchester's good will. Along with the weddings of their children Emmett and Margaret, the two of them graduated from university with college degrees and were making strides in the workforce. In addition, they were devoted spouses and parents to their children. It had been Helga's honor to be named as godmother to the Manchester grandchildren, consisting of Emmett's baby daughter and Margaret's two rambunctious sons upon her return to the Empire State. The woman loved playing a pivotal role in their lives, knowing that being their godmother was the closest thing to parenthood she was ever going to get.

There were also career advancements, pay raises, and the moments of pure joy and genuine happiness when Helga went from being an obscure poet to a _New York Times_ best selling author. From that came book signings, talk shows, endless amounts of money, opportunities to take all the vacations her heart desired, and the realization that she could _write _for a living.

There was the moment the woman bought _her own house _outside of the Big Apple and filled it with more books than the world's largest library could hold.

Then came the time when she proved the nastiest book critics wrong and kept producing one bestseller after the other.

In a short ten year span, Helga became a successful author with more than enough money and literary awards to last her a lifetime. Her childhood dream finally came true and she had _nearly everything _she wanted.

However, Helga could not deny the loneliness she felt. The woman knew too well that she pushed people away.

She did so twenty years ago after bringing Miles and Stella Shortman home to their grown son.

She did it again by becoming consumed with her writing after her ex-fiancé Cyril called off their engagement without any reasonable explanation. The man possessed no room in his heart for love, but more than enough money that being the most coveted, albeit soulless litigation attorney in the state of New York offered.

That was still the case ten years later.

The bastard called Helga after her first novel took off and was being praised universally by critics and ordinary readers alike. He took the woman out to a fancy restaurant as a means of "congratulations", but she left before the waiter asked for their orders.

Cyril was an eternal reminder that despite the good, her life was not perfect. She learned through the grapevine that Harold died of a heart attack eight years prior and also of Eugene's suicide after his dreams of Broadway and Tony awards remained unfulfilled.

Nothing changed otherwise. Helga knew that Curly and Rhonda were still rich philanthropists, their son and daughter aspiring thespians. Gerald and Phoebe continued their lives and careers on the west coast after sending their only daughter to college. Stinky and his wife remained in Arkansas with their slew of children, and Lorenzo retained his title as president of the typical Fortune 500 company. He also remarried, this time to a woman several years his junior. Lila lived a simple life with her family in Pleasantville and Nadine remained a successful entomologist; she lived a happy life with her husband and son in Oregon. Sheena disappeared amidst her activism activities and no one had heard from her in years.

After all this time, Helga remained unsure of fate. She wondered if it truly despised her.

Ten years ago, Helga opened her heart to Arnold and his family at the insistence of a young Agatha Gifaldi. In doing so, she reunited with the boy who deemed her an angel despite her obvious imperfections and found out that his body raged a violent war against Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia.

But nevertheless, the woman exposed herself to Arnold, his family, and friends, only to have it snatched away yet again.

After learning that the young Miles Arnold Shortman checked out of the hospital just after Christmas, the woman returned to her apartment on Hillwood's Upper West Side and hid. She was afraid of calling Arnold and his family, terrified of knowing what became of his son, scared that he might be dead, and didn't to resign herself to the cruel fact that all the efforts she made in opening her heart yielded nothing.

Sid called Helga not long after she returned home from the hospital. He informed her that though Miles was not yet dead, his leukemia took a turn for the worst overnight despite his rigorous rounds of chemotherapy. His oncologist didn't have the heart to keep him in the hospital or to put him through additional treatments that would only keep him alive for a few months a the most. On Boxing Day, Arnold and Sophia, with their other two children Philip and Marianne, checked their son and brother out of the hospital. They took him home with their hopes extinguished and their faith severely shaken.

Sid and his family remained close with Arnold upon learning the news, but Helga ran.

The woman knew she was being cruel and horrible.

Helga knew she was being a coward.

Helga knew better.

But she could not do this again.

The woman's heart couldn't take it anymore. She couldn't bear to expose herself in the way she once had, because it was all for naught.

Helga hated herself for being fooled and for letting her heart take over her rational thoughts. She hated that her efforts went to waste and despised knowing that others had seen her soul.

The woman packed her bags, hired and paid someone to rent out her house to professors on their sabbaticals, and disappeared from her friends' lives once more.

Helga sough inspiration from her novels and poems through travelling to diverse locations ranging from the Polynesian Islands to small, obscure Midwestern towns with low populations.

She avoided visiting places where she'd run into old classmates and childhood friends of yore, covering her tracks well in the process. She had her literary agent and the publishers she worked with swear to secrecy regarding her whereabouts. Helga also refused to hand out her contact information.

It was a painful decision, but learning of Miles' inevitable passing was the last thing Helga wanted to do. She refused to accept the certain death of the person who touched her heart, moved her deeply, and fought with all he had for his life. The woman didn't want to see his parents either, forever aged and grieving the death of their child whose promise and potential was snatched away at such a young age. She couldn't bear the thought of seeing Philip and Marianne eternally scarred by their sibling's death, nor did she see herself capable of witnessing Agatha carrying the cross of losing a loved one at so young an age.

It crossed Helga's mind at one point that she could help the young girl. After all, Helga was the one who helped her realize what was truly important on that fateful Christmas. The woman _knew _how it felt to lose the one person you loved most in the world and realized that she could help Agatha sort through her grief.

But despite her age, Helga G. Pataki was not an adult.

Instead, she ran and didn't keep in touch with anyone with the exception of her agent and publicist.

It was lonely, but she liked it that way.

However, Helga _did _run into Brainy whilst eating potato bourekas and scribbling down some story ideas on a large yellow legal pad outside a little café in the Holy Land. It happened four years after the woman left the way that cowards do and made him swear to secrecy, lest he have another run-in with Old Betsy and the Five Avengers.

Helga packed up her life again after the fact and took off for a penthouse in Montreal. While there, she quickly became fluent in French, embraced her new culture, and ate her weight in poutine without gaining any weight.

She continued writing and published one subsequent bestseller after another. The woman remained detached from the world and became invested in the fictional lives of her characters, along with the worlds she created for them. In turn, Helga did the _very thing _Agatha warned her against.

But what was the point?

What was the _fucking **point **_when all the good things she did were shat upon? It seemed so _worthless._

Helga would rather be a neutral party to everything than experience the extremes of joy and pain.

Still standing on the steps of the Sunset Arms, Helga stared down at the envelope in her cashmere-gloved hands. Inside the envelope was the very reason for her return. The cream-colored sachet was thick and heavy, with her name and the address of the publishing company she worked with written in fancy, albeit edgy black calligraphy. The stamp placed neatly in the right hand corner was a mock-up of the red love statue in Philadelphia set against a bright blue background.

It came from the Gifaldi family, which consisted of Sid, his wife Allison, and their two children Agatha and Simon.

Helga rolled her eyes, recalling the time when the dimwitted "intern" her assistant Patrick hired to assist with the paperwork, filing, and office cleanliness got it through the mail despite everything. She called Helga, her thick valley girl accent heavily emphasized through obnoxious gum chewing and mouth smacking, and told her that the envelope in her hands "looked _really _important."

The woman merely rolled her eyes and told the nameless intern to leave it on Patrick's desk. He was so smart, so Helga naturally naturally wondered what the hell he was thinking hiring a girl like _that._

Helga knew that Patrick was a hopeless romantic who somehow kept his optimism alive and remained idealistic about the dreary world around him despite his own imperfect circumstances. His homophobic parents kicked him out of the house and cut him off for good after he came out to them at the age of eighteen. The woman plucked the young man off the streets shortly afterward, having found him shivering beneath a bench in Central Park using only his coat for warmth. Despite his pale, dirtied skin, mussed light brown hair, and fearful glasz eyes, he still had all the faith and hope in the world for a better tomorrow.

Perhaps that was why she hired him. He reminded her of Arnold and his tendency to look on the bright side.

She also knew that Patrick collected wedding invitations, bridal magazines, and flowered boutonnières. He dreamed of having a themed wedding and a magazine catalogue life. She came across that particular discovery after stopping by the office one day and coming across several large binders on his desk filled to the brim with wedding invitations. Some were timeless and beautifully made whilst others were dated and trendy. The majority of them were cheaply made and incredibly clichéd.

Upon discovering Patrick's compendium, Helga took him aside, telling him that it was perfectly okay to love _love _and be a romantic. It was okay to for him to be an idealist, because she was once the same way. Helga told Patrick that just because she was now jaded, cynical, and bitter, that it didn't mean _he _had to be the same way.

Patrick remained with her since that day, much to the woman's bafflement. She took it upon herself to pay for his university education and didn't know why he, or _anyone_, for that matter, would want to be a secretary for life; even in her days of being homeless and scrubbing toilets for a living, the woman knew she wanted _more._

However, the obscenely large paycheck she gave him likely helped, as did knowing that leaving a comfortable job amidst a recession was incredibly risky.

Helga hung up on the nitwit intern that day, assuming that she would _never _have to think about the incident again; not that she wanted to.

It just seemed _wrong _somehow.

She didn't like the thought of Agatha marrying someone other than Miles.

Granted, she was only thirteen, and he fifteen, when they met. Granted, they'd only known each other for two days, so _how could they be in love?_

But Helga just _knew _when she saw them together on that Christmas ten years ago. The way they smiled at each other and shared what physical contact they could under the circumstances was indication enough. They were in love.

Granted, Miles _died._

Never mind that he'd been dead for ten years now.

Granted, Agatha had _every right _to move on when she was ready.

Still, something about it felt _wrong._

Patrick called Helga at the ungodly hour of 6:00 A.M. the next day. His voice was hollow and somewhat anxious at the time, a stark contrast to his high-pitched, jubilant vocals she'd grown so accustomed to hearing over the course of a decade.

Helga groaned as she reached for the phone and demanded, _"What? It's early. I want to sleep!"_

"I'm calling about the wedding invitation," Patrick informed her. As much as I'd love to add it to my collection, I think you should keep it instead. You need to get your ass back to Hillwood and _go _to this wedding."

"Why?" Helga questioned. "So I can remind myself that I lack a love life? So I can remember that I haven't had a good date since my ex-fiancé from ten years ago called off our wedding for no reason at all? So I can have an awkward encounter with the only man I've _ever **loved**_ along with his wife and children?"

"I just have a feeling that this will restore your faith in humanity," he said. "It always seems that just when you're brought back to life, you barricade yourself. You don't _allow yourself to be_ **_happy_…** and that's _not _healthy."

Helga rolled her eyes and spat, "Whenever something good happens, the powers that be shit on it!"

"Do you really think that shutting out the only people who've tried to help you is going to help?" Patrick demanded. "There are people who _love_ and _care_ about you, Helga! They've _always_ been there for you! I put up with this crap for ten years because I was afraid of getting fired if I said anything. In fact, I'm legitimately freaking out about doing this over the phone right now with the unemployment rate being so high... but Helga, _you've got to stop doing this to yourself._ You're _miserable _and you're _unhappy _even though you have all you've ever wanted. I just don't understand why you do this to yourself."

"Talking back to your boss could cost you your job."

"I do," Patrick admitted. "But you deserve better… and I also think _Agatha and_ **_Miles _**would want you to be at their wedding."

Helga's heart stopped. She swore that she misheard what Patrick had just told her.

Miles Shortman was _alive?_

It couldn't be!

There was no way.

Miles Arnold Shortman was _dead. _Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia _robbed him of his life. _That's what his oncologist said would happen. The doctors said it was an inevitability.

Helga ran away ten years ago so she wouldn't have to accept it; only now she learned that he was _alive._

How could that be?

Blowing some hot air out of her nose, she queried, "When's the wedding?"

"January second," Patrick answered. "It's the day after New Year's. I can get you the next available flight from Montreal to J.F.K. on first class. I'll pick you up and take you to the office. Your hotel accommodations are right in front of me and ready to go. I got you the best in New York City. Sound good?"

"Patrick, you're a _saint_," the woman told him. "Thank you so much for doing this."

"Anytime," the young man responded. "Does this mean I'm still employed?"

"You'll always have a job as long as you need it," Helga answered. "I'm also giving you a raise and a nice Christmas bonus. You better use it, Bucko."

Patrick laughed as she said, "Seriously, though. You've _got_ to get out _sometime._ I didn't pay for your college education for you to be a _secretary_ for the rest of your life. You also need to take a day off. In fact, you have the _entire _month off! Take a _much deserved,** paid** _vacation. Go somewhere exotic. Travel. Stay in a fancy hotel and order all the room service you want. Isn't there an old college friend of yours or a _handsome man _you can spend the holidays with?"

The woman resisted the urge to laugh when the line went temporarily silent and she envisioned Patrick's fair skin turning bright red.

"I don't know what to say."

"Well, I'm a pretty awesome person. You could say that."

**XOXOXO**

Helga still stood on the front steps of 4040 Vine Street, holding the envelope containing Miles and Agatha's wedding invitation inside.

She still couldn't believe he was alive.

She had been so sure he was dead.

The woman took the invitation out of its packaging, admiring its classy, but stylish design. It was printed on nice, heavy cardstock with a light green and navy blue color palette. Intricate decals on its sides complimented the announcement without overpowering it too much:

**_Doctor & Mrs. Sidney Raymond Gifaldi proudly announce the marriage of their daughter_**

**AGATHA CHRISTA**

**_to_**

**MILES ARNOLD SHORTMAN**

**_Son of Mr. & Mrs. Arnold Philip Shortman_**

**_On Saturday, the second of January at eleven in the morning Hillwood Chapel 500 Ivy Street Hillwood, New York_**

**_Please join us for a reception to be held in their honor from four until seven in the evening The Jane Austen Ballroom at Hillwood State University 214 Rosemont Avenue Hillwood, New York_**

Helga chuckled upon seeing Sid's full name, but it made sense. She knew he still practiced pediatric psychology and remained head of the department at Hillwood State University; the fact that he turned his life around after being the school druggie never ceased to amaze her.

The woman looked at the photograph accompanying the invitation and smiled at it.

Miles and Agatha were grown, yet instead of their true ages, she the fifteen-year-old boy fighting for his life and the thirteen-year-old girl who helped her see what was truly important. It was hard to believe that the two of them were now twenty-five and twenty-three, smiling up at her with their arms around each other against a red brick building in the city.

Miles and Agatha stood out in the picture, clear and upfront for all to see. Their eyes were squinted in happiness and they wore grins so wide that they made the corners of Helga's mouth ache. Miles Arnold was handsome as ever and looked exactly like his father with an adorable football-shaped head and thick blond hair that fell into his emerald eyes with a casual elegance. He had some lean muscle, which gave Helga a double take, since when she last saw the young man, he was so skinny she could break him in half. Miles wore a green shirt that brought out his deep green pools, accentuated his strong upper arms, and made his skin look tan. He also wore nice dress pants that made his legs look nice and long.

Agatha looked mostly like her mother with a warmer, darker complexion and wild reddish-brown hair that fell to her waist in gorgeous waves. She had her fathers dark brown eyes and wide smile. She wore a 1940's styled cobalt dress with a swishy A-line skirt that did _too good _of a job enhancing her gorgeous figure.

The woman continued staring at the image before her, wondering how Miles Arnold became better and recovered when everyone seemed so sure that the cancer would kill him.

She was ready for answers.

She was ready to see the ones she loved again.

The woman knocked on the door in front of her with determination, ready and waiting to _finally** learn **_and**_ apply_** the lesson that life kept throwing at her.

**XOXOXO**

Arnold's oldest son Philip answered the door a few moments later. He still looked like his Grandfather Miles despite being more mature and significantly tanner than he was a decade ago.

Smiling hugely at her, he enveloped Helga into a huge and cried out, "Our family has missed you so much!"

_"Funny," _she mused, _"I didn't think anyone missed me at all."_

Philip took her hand and led her up to the roof of the Sunset Arms. Here eyes fell on an elaborately decorated Christmas tree in the corner and a long table ladened with numerous dinner dishes, desserts, and Nativity scenes from all over the world. Sid and his sixteen-year-old son Simon waved at her whilst they prepared to shoot off some fireworks in tribute to the late Gertie Shortman. Meanwhile, his wife Allison conversed with Miles and Stella.

Marianne, Arnold and Sophia's youngest daughter, looked beautiful. She wore her raven locks down to her waist and a vintage party dress with black fishnet stockings and heels. She spoke with another equally striking young woman with jet black hair and bronze skin. Helga didn't know who she was, but instantly spotted Arnold and Sophia with their arms round each other, looking tired and somewhat worn, but nonetheless very happy.

It wasn't hard to spot Miles and Agatha with their arms around each other and their eyes glued to the other person. They looked at each other as though they were the only two people on the roof and in all the world.

Meanwhile, classic Christmas music emitted from and record player. Philip rushed over and put on another in lieu of Burl Ive's "A Holy Jolly Christmas".

Grabbing the hand of the young woman standing with Marianne earlier, he told Helga, "This is my girlfriend, Maya. We just returned from India and felt that this song was appropriate for the occasion."

Helga smiled as the song began playing, instantly recognizing Ringo Starr's vocals singing over Indian beats, drums, and other instruments:

**_Pax um biscum  
Pax um biscum, Merry Christmas_**

**_Pax um biscum_**

"It means _peace be with you,_" Philip told her. He kissed Maya on the cheek and added, "We've been blessed so much over the past few years."

"You certainly have," Helga replied whilst holding out Miles and Agatha's wedding invitation. "I thought Miles was dead."

Philip responded, "We thought it was the end that Christmas. It'd been two weeks since we heard the news and we were all just waiting for him to... you know – _die _– when Sid called us. It turned out there was a colleague of his at the medical center working on a new cancer treatment _exclusively _for patients with Miles' leukemia. It was purely experimental and we knew it was risky… but Miles is an eternal optimist."

They turned around and faced the young man with his fiancée. They watched as the young couple danced to the music, completely oblivious to Ringo Starr's voice accompanying them.

**_Pax um biscum_**

**_Peace be with you_**

Helga nodded as her thoughts dwelled on Philip's words and said, "He's like your dad."

The young man nodded and said, "The treatment was a success. We were _so_ lucky. We tried contacting you when we found out, but we couldn't find you."

"Yes, we wanted to let you know that the treatment put Miles in remission and that he was eventually cured, but we didn't know where you were."

Helga turned around upon hearing Arnold's voice behind her, which was still smooth, deep, and jazz-like, but void of the anger she expected it to hold.

Arnold and his family had _every right _to be angry with her, but they weren't.

She looked up at him and noticed his faded blond hair and the beginning wrinkles cornering his eyes and forehead. However, he remained handsome as ever. His arms were wrapped around Sophia's waist and Helga noticed that she _hadn't aged at all _despite everything.

Sophia was still gorgeous with her ivory skin and nearly black hair. In contrast, Helga long ago resigned herself to letting her flaxen hair go grey and the wrinkles on her face take prominence.

Looking down in shame, Helga said, "I'm sorry, Arnold. I run away every time I grow close to someone. I guess my heart's just been broken too many times."

"So has mine," Arnold told her. "Helga, I don't think you understand the impact you have on people. You have _no understanding_ of the difference you make. You gave Miles hope on that Christmas ten years ago; even when the doctors said otherwise, he still had faith. He was the one who wanted to go through with the procedure despite the risks. Miles was determined to get better. He wanted to live so he could read more of your books."

"You flatter me," Helga said. "Miles has more to live for than my _writing,_ Football-Head."

"We're still glad you're here," Arnold told her. "Miles and Agatha will want to see you."

**XOXOXO**

Everyone soon came together with their heaping plates of food and sat together in a circle on the roof. They traded food and drinks with each other while Miles and Agatha were so intertwined that no one could pry them apart.

Helga quickly learned that Maya was Philip's long-term girlfriend. They met while he was in San Lorenzo with his Grandfather Miles and planned on marrying once he finished his PhD in Anthropology and Maya completed hers in Central American Studies at the University of San Lorenzo. Philip was similar to the elder Miles, both in physicality and passion for adventure and anthropological subjects.

Meanwhile, Marianne followed in her father's footsteps and was studying International Relations at his alma mater George Washington University. In addition, Arnold continued his work at the United Nations and Sophia still practiced law, but scaled back to working part-time once Miles Arnold was cured.

Arnold's parents were still alive, but retired from teaching at Hillwood State University. They traveled in their spare time and also spoiled their three grandchildren.

Additionally, Helga learned from Sid and Allison that the latter still wrote. However, she scaled back her writing rather significantly over the past ten years, focusing more on publishing for magazines and newspapers. Their teenage son resembled his father at that age and liked Biology. He and his sister both had the air of being loved, happy, and well cared for that Sid lacked during his childhood and adolescence.

Helga then faced the young, happy couple. Agatha sat next to Miles with her head resting on his shoulder and both his arms wrapped around her. She asked them, "What are you both up to?"

Agatha smiled contentedly as Miles kissed her hair. She answered, "I want to be a child psychologist like my dad."

Sid smiled proudly at his daughter while his future son-in-law added, "She's doing _so_ great. She's at the top of her class."

"Only because you gave me that French press," the young woman countered lightly. "Of course, I have to kick you out of my apartment whenever you come visit me on weekends! I can't get any studying in when you come by!"

"Funny, because I still stay and you don't say anything about it," Miles said. His fiancée hit him gently, but nevertheless very playful on the shoulder in response. He then "retaliated" by kissing her on the lips.

"Where are you attending school?" Helga asked.

"I got my Bachelors at the University of South Carolina at Columbia," she answered. "That's Dad's alma mater. However, I'm getting my Masters at John Hopkins because that's where Miles is attending medical school."

"I see," Helga nodded. Turning towards the young man who nearly died those years ago, she inquired, "What are you studying?"

"I did pre-med at Columbia," Miles answered. "I want to be a pediatric oncologist and help kids like me."

Helga's heart was touched and she found herself at peace. She looked at those around her and felt genuinely happy for them. Sid turned his life around and now had a successful career and happy family of his own. Miles and Stella were reunited with their son when it was deemed impossible. Arnold, the only person Helga ever really loved, was happy and _finally_ at peace with his own life as well. He had a loving wife and three successful children, one of whom cheated death.

She watched as the couples surrounding her – Miles and Stella, Arnold and Sophia, Philip and Maya, Miles Arnold and Agatha, Sid and Allison – and realized she would never have that.

Yet, everything was okay because it all came _full circle for her_.

Helga saw it firsthand with how Roger and Ava Manchester helped her out and how she helped bring Arnold's parents back to him when all hope was lost. She bore witness to it upon seeing that Sid got help and sorted his life out. Moreover, the woman left for ten years in an attempt to escape, only to realize what was _really important _thanks to a thirteen-year-old girl who was equally stubborn and a fifteen-year-old boy dangerously close to death. She disappeared again in her cowardice for another decade, only to discover that all was well and that she had also come full circle in becoming a famous author and fulfilling her childhood fantasy, saving Patrick in the way that Roger and Ava saved her, learning that Miles Arnold was granted another chance at life, seeing how devoted he and Agatha were to each other, and the collective happiness their families shared.

Best of all, she was happy too.

**_Peace be with you  
Peace be with you  
Peace be with you_**

Helga didn't have Arnold or her immediate family, but she had an _entire extended family _that loved her. The Manchester's, Patrick, Sid, Arnold, their wives, and children all helped Helga become a better person in some way, shape, or form. They were her family whether Helga liked it or not.

They were _her **family **_no matter how far Helga ran away from Hillwood.

It was the one place that was truly her home.

It was the one place she always knew would welcome her back with open arms.

Helga smiled at Miles Arnold and told him, "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," he said, both his eyes and smile radiating happiness. "I'm glad you came home, Helga. We all missed you."

"Yeah, yeah," the woman shrugged. "If you told your dad and future father-in-law during our days at P.S. 118 that we'd be chummy and the best of friends in the future, they would've laughed in your face."

"I know _I _would have," Sid confessed as he placed an arm around his wife and son. "Lucky for all of us, the lives and attitudes we have in the fourth grade don't determine the rest of our lives… lucky for all of us that we have the chance to grow up and become _better_."

Helga nodded at Sid's pronouncement and realized that life was all about growing up, progressing, and ultimately becoming the best person you could be. It took _a lot_ of work, and life wasn't always perfect, but there was still beauty and goodness if you were willing to find it.

And if you were willing to _live it._

Helga asked, "So, Nose Boy and Football-Head, did the two of you _ever _think that your children would marry each other? Did you _ever _think of the possibility that you'd end up sharing grandchildren one day?"

"Not in the fourth grade," Arnold laughed. "I didn't think of it at all until Miles and Agatha were joined at the hip and unable to be without the other person." He sighed, looked at his son and future daughter-in-law, and admitted, "When you get out of elementary school, you reach a point in your life where you don't _expect _to remain 'best friends forever' with every single person you come across. People grow up. People change. We all get swept up in different directions and we all go down different paths. You eventually resign yourself to never really being friends with those from your childhood forever. I always thought that people who did were lucky; but now I realize that the friendships you keep for life are truly _that important _and in some ways _meant to be _because they're so few and far between."

Sid nodded and said, "It's not until you're old that you realize who your _true friends _and _family _really are."

"That's true," Helga agreed.

**_Pax um biscum  
Pax um biscum, Merry Christmas_**

**_Pax um biscum_**

**_Peace be with you_**

**XOXOXO**

After promising to come back and visit before the wedding, Helga left Arnold's house at long last. She was on her way to the relaxing, luxurious room Patrick booked for her at the Trump SoHo via car service.

The woman was tempted to lie across the black leather seats of the sleek car, but remained seated instead. She knew that she had nine day's worth of sleep, rest, and spa days to indulge in before the wedding took place.

Helga stretched her limbs and turned towards the window, watching as the city of her childhood disappeared and slowly turned into the Big Apple. It was almost surreal, how it all changed so quickly before her very eyes. One minute, Helga was atop the Sunset Arms, reminiscing on days gone by, growing and progressing despite her age, and reaching the full realization that she had a _family... _and the next, she was viewing the crazy night life of New York City, her tired blue eyes resting on her older sister standing on a street corner.

Olga Pataki's hair was completely silver and no longer the vibrant, sophisticated blonde it once was. However, it was styled nicely in a chick pixie cut. Her blue eyes were overlarge, tired, and void of emotion, with faint traces of liquid mascara lining its rims. Her lips and cheeks were _too _red for her complexion, and she wore pearls in her ears and around her neck. A floor length mink coat covered her lithe body, but she still kept her arms protectively around herself and the several Louis Vuitton suitcases surrounding her.

Helga turned back to the driver and ordered, _"STOP THE CAR! NOW!"_

The driver slammed on the breaks and parked. Helga exited the vehicle and ran towards her older sister and hugged her tightly to her chest.

When they parted, Olga said, "Baby Sister... it's been _years._"

"I know," Helga said. "What happened to you, Olga?"

"I left my husband," she confessed whilst looking downward. "He plucked me off the Broadway stage after my short-lived career _tanked _and _saved me, _or so I thought." Taking a deep breath, she added, "I couldn't have children and he resented that. He got drunk, had mistresses, and was violent, but he kept a roof over my head and gave me nice things. I finally got the courage to leave just now."

Helga hugged her sister again and remarked, "I'm sorry. I'm _so _sorry. Life just _sucks _sometimes, doesn't it?"

The older woman nodded and said, "It's still beautiful though. Sometimes. Rarely."

"That's true," Helga said. She picked up two of Olga's suitcases and suggested, "Come stay with me for a while. I'm staying at the Trump SoHo until the third of January... then you can come with me to Montreal until you get back on your feet."

"You live in _Montreal _now?" Olga asked whilst they took her numerous suitcases to the car and having the driver place them in the trunk. "I didn't know that. I mean, I know you're a famous writer and all, though."

"I kind of lived everywhere for a while," Helga said. "But I'm thinking about selling my house in Montreal and coming back to my old one in Manhattan."

Olga snorted and said, "You have a fucking _house _outside Manhattan and yet you're staying at the Trump SoHo, which isn't even _that_ far away. God, Daddy would be _so_ jealous of you."

Helga rolled her eyes and said, "There are more important things in life… and better things to do than let yourself be miserable. It just took a while for me to learn it."

The two sisters got into the car and the driver resumed heading towards their destination. Jazzy Christmas carols played softly in the background and the outside world around them became crazier, but had no effect on the two sisters.

Helga looked at Olga, smiled, and whispered, _"Merry Christmas, Olga."_

She felt very much at peace like she had earlier that evening.

The woman realized that while her life wasn't perfect, that there was still so much to be thankful for. Even though she never married her one true love or had children of her own, she still had immediate and extended family. Even though Helga only _just started _being a grown-up and still had much to learn, she still had people who believed in her, faith, the personal victories that came with winning her own personal wars, the ability to overcome trials, happiness, and love.

Helga G. Pataki knew in her heart that she gained _the entire world_ on what was her fiftieth Christmas upon the earth.

Never had she been more at peace.

**_Peace be with you  
Peace be with you  
Peace be with you_**


End file.
